The twins never ceased to amaze me.
I breathed deeply as I tried to come to terms with the true identity of my new boyfriend. Part of me couldn't believe that I had caressed and slept with a famous millionaire from L.A.
"Why didn't you guys tell me this in the first place?"
"We don't talk about ourselves. It's not the way we were brought up," Ree answered patiently.
Dess sat again on the mattress and searched my face, making sure I was comfortable before she began her story matter-of-factly. "Our mom's family owns the company. Mom and her sister started the company after their mother, our abuela, came here from Mexico."
"Later, our dad helped them expand their company to include salsa, frozen burritos, things of that nature," Ree said, continuing his family history. "He also wanted to grow the business to include food from the Philippines, his country. But they never got around to doing that."
"May he rest in peace," Dess added, sounding uncharacteristically respectful.
Ree looked at her, and they exchanged brief, sad glances.
"I'm sorry about your father," I said, still at a loss for words.
No one said anything.
They're still the same goofy Rios twins, I thought, encouraging myself. You can talk to them.
"So, who runs the company and the restaurants?" I asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Well, my mom and my aunt both run the manufacturing plant, but it is really my aunt, Tía Luna, who does the day-to-day stuff. My mom started the restaurant about seven years ago, so she's focused mostly on that. My cousins run all the restaurants, except for the one we run, in the valley." Ree went to the fridge to get some more juice. It's a good thing he was rich; he could afford to replace all the juice he'd been gulping down.
"Our family takes turns running it every year. It's fair that way." Dess found an orange sitting on my countertop and tore into it.
What was it with these people and oranges?
"How soon can you move out?" Ree asked, winking at me and chugging down his juice at the same time.
The twins helped me submit my 30-day notice to Ethan, who seemed none too pleased that I was leaving. I told him I'd be out of there a lot earlier than 30 days, probably closer to two or three at the most, especially since I didn't have very much furniture.
We spent the weekend packing. I was burning with curiosity as to why they didn't live in a fancy penthouse in the richest part of Seattle, complete with butlers, maids, and chauffeurs. They could have one of those beautiful apartments that had floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the skyline and the Space Needle.
So I asked them. And they had different answers.
Dess apparently didn't like being around those type of people—something I should have already guessed. She liked people who were 'real,' not people who kissed her ass because they thought her money would rub off on them.
Ree liked the independence and reality of living wherever he wanted instead of being sheltered away like some rare species. He wouldn't mind settling down somewhere really nice, he explained, but that would be more necessary when he had a wife and kids.
"Why do you work?" I asked Dess. I had gotten quite used to being around the twins and their half-sentences and other incomplete forms of communication.
It was Sunday. Dess had gone home on Saturday night after a full day of packing, bringing her car home with her. Ree spent the night with me. Sadly, because I was so exhausted from the weekend in general and from all that had happened, I fell asleep early without any more of that amazing action he and I experienced together on Friday night. But it was still exceptionally thrilling to sleep right beside the most wonderful, beautiful man in existence, my famous angel millionaire, being able to reach out and feel his perfect, smooth skin, and feeling his warmth all night.
Better still was when I had been lucky enough to wake up and see his perfection barely-dressed and in my bed, just asking to be attacked. I'd already been starting to thirst for his touch, but I'd figured there'd be plenty of time for that after I'd moved out.
Dess sighed mockingly as she continued to pack my vanity stuff in a box. "You're beginning to sound like my mother," she whined. "Only she pesters me because she wants me to work in the family business. I work to forget about… things that happened in L.A."
I looked at Ree questioningly, expecting him to elaborate. He didn't. Instead, he looked at Dess in a way I had never seen before—like he was actually worried about her.
"You can tell her, Dess," he said quietly.
Dess laughed humorlessly. "And lay out more family garbage for her to see? No, thanks."
"Well, we know everything about her, for the most part," he argued. "Me especially. And now that she realizes who we are, she'll probably find out anyway."
She sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." Dess stopped and looked at me, almost looking like the shy girl I first met at work not too long ago. "A couple years ago, our sister was killed in a drive-by shooting."
"What? Oh, my god. I had no idea, you guys. I'm so sorry." I felt horrible for pressing the subject.
"It's okay, Morgan. You didn't know," Ree said calmly, taping up my box of paperbacks. "Estrella, our sister, was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she should not have been talking to or hanging around those people. They were gang members."
"That's the main reason why I moved here," Dess went on. "My mother believed that my only choices were to either work at the restaurant and live with her where there was a lot of security, or move to a low-crime neighborhood out-of-state until things died down."
"And that's why you moved to Washington?" I asked incredulously. I never would have guessed that. I'd thought she had maybe been tired of L.A. and wanted to experience something new.
"We have an aunt that owns a Filipino store in downtown Seattle, and though we have family in different places everywhere, Dess thought this would be a nice change of pace from high-stress L.A. living," Ree explained.
Dess added, "And Lynnwood seemed nice and quiet, close enough to Seattle that I could get there quickly if I needed to. Then, as you know, Rios followed me out here to bunk with me for a little while."
"Why didn't you just move with her to begin with?" I asked him.
Ree blushed a little and said, "I was, uh, in a relationship with someone and didn't want to leave the area at the time. We broke up a few months ago, and my mom got hysterical out of nowhere, screaming that I was going to be the next to get shot. I have no idea why she would think that, but in the end the only way I could calm her down was to be on the next plane to Seattle. I suspect she might have wanted Dess and me to be together."
"Did they ever catch the person that did it?"
He shook his head sadly.
"And that's the person your mom thinks is after you now?"
"Maybe," Ree said under his breath. Dess had begun noisily taping the box shut and stopped paying attention.
"God, I'm so sorry, Ree."
"Don't worry about it, Baby," he said, kissing my forehead. I was starting to realize that was his go-to move when he wanted to reassure me.
I looked down at the kitchen utensils that I was packing, unsure of what I should say just then. I really wanted to ask more about Estrella, but seeing as how it was an obviously touchy subject, I left it alone.
The twins changed the topic pretty quickly and chatted together while we continued packing up my stuff. I watched Ree out of the corner of my eye, reflecting on this amazing soul I had come to know, a soul that somehow had always been part of my life, whether I was aware of it or not.
He always insisted that I didn't make him up, yet he had all the traits I'd ever wanted in a man. How was that possible? I regarded him like an exquisite work of art, almost afraid to touch him but once I did, it was almost impossible to stop. I wanted his body to be in contact with mine on a consistent basis, because it was the only thing that felt right. I smiled to myself suddenly, floored by the realization that h
e perceived me in the same sacred way.
When he paused and looked my way, I admired his perfect, expressive eyes and the lips that I did not even know existed a few short months ago—lips that seemed to speak the answer to all my life's worries.
Lips that I could kiss, adore, and look at for the remainder of my stay on this planet.
Chapter 13
"Well, that's pretty much everything," Dess stated proudly.
We looked around the small room. Nearly everything was in boxes. The only real furniture I had was my mattress (I never had a frame for it), a small dresser drawer, and a folding chair. I walked over to the dresser drawer to make sure it was empty.
Nope. I still had a bunch of stuff in there—frames that held photos of my parents. I sighed, not wanting to really display it but not wanting to throw it away either.
Watching me, Ree suggested, "If you take the entire drawer, we can just pack it that way like a box. Let's just put some newspaper between all the frames and other stuff to prevent anything from breaking." I had no problem with his reasoning and took the drawer out completely, placing it carefully on the floor.
Ree came over with a newspaper he'd bought earlier just for the express purpose of packing my miscellaneous crap. I told him there was an easier way to do this, but he stubbornly insisted this was the best way. I mentally shrugged and let him do it his way.
He took part of the front page and began to crumple it up, quickly doing a double-take at something he saw on it and straightening out the page.
"What is it, Ree?" I asked him, approaching him cautiously. Dess probably also noticed something was off and crept up on his other side.
He said nothing but continued to straighten the page, pointing to an article. Apparently a few people from a gang had been killed this week.
Scanning the article over Ree's shoulder, Dess shook her head. "Don't worry, Rios. I don't believe it either. This area doesn't really have gangs. If it did, it really, really won't be like the gangs from back home." She clapped an open palm on his back.
"I'm sorry," I chimed in. "I know how you guys must probably be sensitive to gang violence."
Ree shook his head. "No, that's not it. Look, ladies, I'm reading through this and I'm telling you, this is not gang violence. The police think the victims were gang members because they all had the same tattoo—a small, red sideways number 5."
"Okay, so? What am I missing?"
"I, too, fail to see the logic of your ways," Dess said, craning her neck to get a better look at the accompanying photo.
"There's something else I never told you," Ree said to Dess. Then he turned to face me. "And something you might be interested to know."
Dess made a tsk sound and looked at her twin. "What's with all the secrets, dude? 'Fess up."
Taking the article with him, he sat on the edge of the mattress. "This one was meant to protect you, Dess. I apologize for keeping these secrets from you, but things get complicated when you factor in the whole LGA thing. I knew, but couldn't tell you, even though I helped you cover it up." He looked at Dess pointedly. When their eyes met, he looked at the tattoo inside the crook of her arm.
She gave him a quizzical look and lifted her arm in the air, inspecting it closely as if it weren't her own. Not understanding, I remained quiet, hoping it would all be explained to me soon.
I watched Dess as she closed her eyes and took a breath, muttering, "Shit. I should have been told about this, you know."
"I know, Dess. You have no idea what it was like growing up like me, having to choose everyday whom to be loyal to—your family, or your supernatural bosses."
She sighed and turned to me. "When Rios and I were little, we would always talk about a birthmark I had, right here." She pointed to the tattoo on the inside crook of her right arm—the round, intricate symbol that I still didn't understand. "Back then, we thought it was a sign from God."
"What did it look like?"
"It was a small, red, sideways number 5. I used to call myself Secret Agent Five when I was little."
"Secret Agent Fi—" I stopped short. "The victims of these killings. They have the same markings."
Ree stood up again, crumpling up the article and stuffing it inside the drawer. Dess continued to shake her head, staring at her tattoo. "The 5 birthmark is what marks all the Slates. It is an unforeseen side effect which is the direct result of these antiquated gods butting in on human affairs. No offense intended," he added hastily to Dess.
She said nothing but shook her head again, looking unhappy.
He tousled her hair. "Dess, you know I love you, but these are key pieces of information that I was entrusted with from the beginning, once I got old enough to remember the LGA primary objectives. It was necessary to keep it all to myself so that I could remain focused on my task—er, tasks at hand." He snuck a quick, affectionate glance at me.
"So why are you telling us now?" I asked him.
He shrugged, possibly trying to make it seem more nonchalant than he felt it was. "The game has changed now. Now we're aware of the presence of a couple of the Melted. I also have a feeling that since Dess has begun her Unveiling—at least to the point where she remembers her real name, Lachesis—more demons will come to Lynnwood, almost like sharks following a trail of blood in the ocean. But I don't think the Melted can narrow down who a Slate is without the birthmark and thankfully, Dess covered hers up years ago."
I finally understood. "Ree, did you tell Dess to get that tattoo?"
He smiled on one side of his face, one adorable dimple showing itself. "Nah. She'd been dying to get it for years. I might have persuaded her to get it in that exact location, however."
"How many Slates have been killed?" Dess said, pacing around the bathroom now, her voice considerably quiet.
"Since the beginning of time, you mean? I really don't know, but I want to say there were at least twenty killed so far this year alone." Ree tried to say it in a casual manner, but I could hear his breath catching a little.
I laid face down on my mattress, hugging my extra pillow that Ree didn't use, on the verge of tears. "This whole thing has me scared. What will happen if you two get hunted by the Melted? What would I possibly do then?"
Ree sat by my side and tried to soothe me, smoothing my hair back and kissing me on the head. "That's not going to happen. I swear. I did not come here just so I can be separated from you."
"I'm afraid—terrified that this was all a dream and I'll wake up in Adim's apartment, finding that neither one of you ever existed." My tears were flowing faster now.
"Morgue –" Dess said, her voice sounding very concerned and like she had stepped closer to me.
"No! How do I know that I didn't invent you, Dess? I already know I invented Ree."
"Morgan," Ree said, sounding firm but loving, "You did not invent me. I am real. I've always been real. I was never an imaginary friend. I was your Living Guardian Angel, and even though I may not have that title anymore, it'll always mean something to me. My spirit will always protect you, regardless of the rules, whether or not I'm officially your LGA or even if my life gets taken away from me."
I said nothing and, after that, heard nothing. I cried about the misery of the world, thinking of the Slates that were killed just for being who they were. Discrimination was never too far away in this universe, no matter where a person's spirit was from. I cried because I was deathly afraid that something would happen to the twins, both of whom have changed my life in ways they may never truly understand.
In this melancholy, miserable state, I slept and dreamt of my own mind-room.
* * *
"Where are we, Morgan?"
The beautiful Tiberius was walking with me in my dream along a small stream. In the background, an old-looking gray castle stood.
"Are you going to remember all this, Ree? Are you sleeping right now?"
He smiled. "Where are we, Morgan?"
"Aren't you the one that decides where we are?" I asked him, conf
used.
He shook his head. "It's your mind—I just work here." He gave me another dazzling smile, showing his dimples again. "Remember, you're the Architect."
I sat down on a nearby rock. "It's so weird, talking to you in the same way I used to talk to Friend. How are you able to do this? How can you be in my dream if you're not connected to me that way anymore?"
His smile disappeared. "I can't. I'm not here, Morgan. Just a manifestation of the person you know."
"Just a manifestation," I repeated, discouraged. "So you're not really here right now. I can never again talk to you the way I did when I was little."
"But we can talk to each other in real life. I can't give you any more knowledge this way, but you can use me to evaluate and organize the information you already have. Your mind-room construction power, for instance. You haven't dealt with that at all, and it's really important."
I sighed. "You come from my mind, so what you're saying is what I believe… so it seems that I believe my power is important. You're—I'm—right. I need to focus on this. I was given this power for a reason, and even though it doesn't seem like a big deal or like it can really help people, there's no harm in trying, right?"
"Exactly," my Fake Ree agreed. There, right there was an obvious difference between the fake and the original. The Real Ree would be a lot more positive and encouraging about it and not simply concede to there being 'no harm in trying.'
"This is my dream. I'm here to practice my human helper powers. So let's do it."
I don't know if dream-time is the same as regular earth time, but we—I—practiced for a long time. He'd show me examples of mind rooms, some messy, some neat, all of different sizes—and I'd help organize all the files onto shelves and create something particular to the owner of those files. It would all be done by me focusing and believing that I could do it, and in the blink of an eye, things would be rearranged, invented, or taken away. It was a lot like when a person dreams and wants to change something they see, and all they have to do is concentrate on it and, hopefully, it would change. It was good practice, and I enjoyed it, almost upset when I woke up to find the Real Ree lying next to me wide awake.
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